More Serious
by CraftyNotepad
Summary: It's time for college and Keely finds that things between her and Phil are becoming more serious. Rated T, maybe M if Keely gets her way. Ch2 Does Mother Know Best?
1. Unpacking the Essentials

To okaie, who inspired me to consider Phil and Keely's future

Disclaimer: I haven't found Pickford on a California map yet, despite my best effort. Perhaps if I owned Phil of the Future I'd know exactly where H.G.Wells Jr./Sr. High School is, but since I don't, I, uh, don't.

**More Serious**

Ch. 1 "Unpacking the Essentials"

Wet. Wet and warm, and muscular. For the last twenty minutes he had remained playfully in the entrance of my partially opened lips. In my new dorm room, my Pickfordite boyfriend had been sharing the surface of my freshly made bed. Our shoes were off. The door was closed. My roommate was out for the evening. Every time Phil's fingers ran along my blouse's bottom hem, I was sure that he was about to make his move to remove my garments, but he didn't. What was he waiting for?

No parents, no Pim, not even the chance of anyone walking in on us; still, he just played at my doorstep, his hands occasionally caressing my arms just as his lips played at mine own. The last few months before coming here, Phil and I had become, well ... more, much, much more ... serious. We still lit up as always when in sight of our significant other, but lately we had been experiencing powerful urges. Physical? Oh, yeah! But there was also the urge to share more; Phil wanted to know everything about me. He wasn't satisfied with just seeing me decked out to the nines, he wanted to watch me getting ready for our dates, to catch me first thing in the morning before I had a chance to brush the sleep from her eyes, let alone run a brush through my hair, even sweaty and gross after helping Mom organize and transport some donations. Phil shared, too, about things that he was terrified of as a kid (no, Pim wasn't one of them), playing in the holographic sandbox, and imagining what our first kiss would be like.

I glanced up at the kitty-cat-clock already on the wall, its pendulum tail swaying back and forth. Twenty-one minutes and he still hadn't, you know. I peered passed Phil to the desk-closet divider down the center of the room, designating the boundary between Keelyland and Erinland. Erin, my roommate. Honestly, I really wanted Phil for a roommate, but then, who wouldn't? That would have been my dream, just like sharing a little apartment. Initial impression-wise, Erin was okay. Her side of the room was still a work in progress, too, with most of Erin's belongings still in cardboard boxes. Erin had some friends from her high school also on campus and they had hung around for a few hours, grinding the unpacking to a halt. I had been included in the chat and had been asked about the pictures already attached to Keelyland's cabinet doors.

I introduced my mother in a rare photo op, my uncle the clown, my best girl Via, a Saint Bernard called Maximillian, and a black and white of Edward R. Murrow. Surprisingly, no one asked about Max or the fellow in circus make-up; I had to explain Edward. I easily summed him up, this Peabody award winning journalist, in one word: integrity. He had worked through difficult times: Germany's bombing of London, nearly single-handedly destroying McCarthyism, corruption and injustice in the United States, always respected for being willing to put his reputation on the line for what he believed was true and right. Erin regretted already pinning up her Jonas Brothers poster. Two more pictures begged explanation. There was the crooked Christmas tree photo with the Diffys. Pim was smiling for once, Barbara holding a sprig of mistletoe up in the air, Lloyd was trying to both smile and give photography directions through his teeth to Curtis, hence the slant of the photo. Phil and I were in the center of the composition, arms around our waists. The final pictures, the best for last, were highlighted by a silver-framed picture standing on the desk beside my printer.

Just about my most treasured possession, it's from our second official date, a night at a carnival. Preserved for eternity, there we are with goofy smiles and wide-eyed looks poking out from behind the carnival cut-out with twenty's (1920s, not 2120s!) bathing suits. Tuck between the frame's shiny edge and the glass is an inch-and-a-half wide strip of paper featuring our second attempt of having our pictures taken inside the automated photo booth; Phil has the first. Each treats the viewer to one shot of us not being ready, a shot of us in mid-laugh, and two that leave no question as to our being together.

I didn't have to explain the photo's of us; these ARE college students, after all. Still, when their eyes spotted my copy Stephenie Meyer's latest Twilight, I thought that I'd have to explain my interest in my other Edward, but no, they shared my interest and understood. The rest of my side was still pretty utilitarian: a year-at-a-glance calendar still without midterms and finals circled on it, my class schedule, a map of the campus with my class buildings marked in yellow highlighter, a collection of flyers from all-night restaurants, laptop, my lucky mug, pen cup, flower vase, stapler, multicolored Post-Its, desktop fan, candy dish, jar of walnuts, bottle of vitamin C, cell phone charger, ... yep, just the essentials.

Essentials. Phil and I are still kissing. No, I'm not complaining; it's not that. It's just that I'm in college now and it feels like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Instead, the Kitty Clock just keeps swinging away, making me more anxious about when Phil's other shoe will drop. Tick-tock, tick-tock, how that clock mocks, mocks, mocks ...

√v√V√v√V√v√V√v√V√v√V√v√V√

A/N: Caught the iCarly episode "Might Switch Schools" on Saturday with their PotF guest. Lise Simms guest stared playing of Mrs. Pilaf, Head Master of Briarwood. What happens to a PotF star after she's done peddling her infomercial? Lise starts to spend the episode by asking about Spencer's buttocks and later she is groped on screen by a dozen kids who trap her on an oversized yellow beanbag and tear through her clothes, leaving her business threads in shreds. See, Ashley?! That's what city life is like! Now in a nice friendly town like Pickford that never would have befallen Mrs. Diffy. Lloyd, you say? Sure, in a freakin' second, but not Barbara!


	2. Does Mother Know Best?

To okaie, who inspired me to consider Phil and Keely's future

Disclaimer: Searching the phone book under "T": Television Repair ... Tennysons, Mr. & Mrs. ... Teslow, Mandy & Keely. "Hi Mrs. Teslow. No, no, it's not about a house – no, not the colonial on Jashley Circle. Would you stop by the Disney Channel offices and treat them like they just drove over your lawn ornaments – all of them. REALLY? Thanks, Mrs. T! Now I don't feel so bad about not owning Phil of the Future, just the people who do.

_**More Serious**_

_**Ch2 -- Does Mother Know Best?**_

_**Two Hours Earlier:**_ ...tick-tock, tick-tock, ... Via would have understood about Phil coming over, but no, I now have an Erin. I think that she must be a P.E. major the way she jumps to conclusions.

"So, I'm going out with my old high school gang for dinner and laughs later. Want to join us, Roomie?

"Thanks, but Phil is coming by later and --"

"And you'd like to be alone. I understand. Sure, just keep it on your side, will ya?"

"We're not like that! We're good --"

"Good at respecting other people's personal space. Great. Say, you've been going together for like forever, so you're going to owe me so big for this: I have Astronomy 101 Lecture from 6 to 10 Wednesday nights, then Astronomy Lab from 10 to 2am immediately after that. Think that will give you two enough time to wear yourselves out in here?"

"We're not going to --"

"Hey, I've gotta come in to sleep sometime, at least some nights. Tell you what, I'll jiggle the key in the lock and that'll be our signal. Just remember to do the same for me; okay?"

"Erin, Phil and I are going to be too busy studying to --"

"Oh, that's so cute. I haven't heard it called 'studying' for ages! Okay, gotta go. Remember, key jigging; right? 'Studying!' Pick-furd must be a real backwater. 'Studying.' Ha-ha. Have a great time studying, Roomie. Bye-bye."

Oh, Via. Tia even. At this point, I'm even entertaining the idea of Pim. I wouldn't go through with it, of course, but the thought is bouncing around in the "How low will I go?" category of my brain.

**Back On My Bed: ** This is driving me crazy. How can I enjoy Phil being here, doing this with me, when I'm feeling so anxious about when he's going to make his move. I feel cheated, too. Mr. Diffy's tongue is making progress. Nowhere I haven't let him go before, but he's doing gymnastics in my cavernous mouth with my mouth's muscle that would make my dentist, Dr. Mentorman, blush. I know I am.

Why do people think that Phil and I are going to, you know, outside of Pickford?

**A Week Earlier:** "Cinnamon Buns, stop packing for a moment and come sit down with me."

"Sorry, Mom, I'm just so electrified. College."

"Yes, you're growing up, having to make your own choices, picking directions for living your life. You're going to meet new people, make new friends, some are going to pressure you to ... do things."

"Don't worry, Mom. Phil's going to be there. He'll --"

"I'mTalkingAboutPhil." (deep breath) "Cheesy Cheeks, I like Phil; I really do, but Keely, he's a boy who --"

"He's not a boy anymore, Mom. Anyway, he's not just any boy, Phil's Phil. He's my best friend."

"I know this, Sugar Lumps, and it's exactly what worries me. He's a man now and he has ... desires."

"I trust Phil."

"You don't see the way he sometimes looks at you when you're not looking. There's something decidedly not platonic in his eyes, Sweet Bread. Sometimes, there's a different tone in his voice when he speaks to you, and he touches you when he doesn't have to."

"Mom, we're just frien – you're right, Mom. We're more than friends. We have been for quite a while now, since we decided to become a couple. Really, even before that. Phil's my boyfriend; he's supposed to look at me that way; I'd be concerned if he didn't. But Mom, have you ever noticed how I sometimes look at him? I'm not a little girl anymore and Phil's not the only one with urges. I touch him, too."

"That doesn't make me feel any better about your going away to college by yourself, with Him."

I thought about what she said. There was some truth, and some honest concern, but there was a piece missing and left unsaid. "Mommy, I'm growing up. This is how growing up is supposed to be, my standing on my own two feet, making my own decisions about how to live my life --"

"I know, but --"

"I love Phil."

"I know, but --"

"And Phil loves me. We love each other."

"Sweetness, I'm only looking out for your --"

"And can you imagine man who would ever look out and care for me more? Love me more than Phil does?

Mom actually took her time to chew on what I asked, then finally gave me an honest answer, "No. No, I can't."

"Mom, can you picture Phil ever forcing his way upon me or hurting me on purpose or --"

"He loves you."

"He loves me. He always has. Long before I let him touch me, long before our first kiss, Phil loved me. Not my body, not my shape, but Keely Teslow inside it. He loves Me. He sees Me. He knows Me. How special is that?" Mom doesn't even know the half of it. Phil's different than any other boy.

Crying now, my mom was crying. She knew. She knew that I was right, that Phil and I are right. I held her hand and gave her a big old one-armed hug, sharing a few tears with her, and some laughter.

Mom leaves my bedroom smiling, so I'm thinking that everything is settled now, and go back to packing, more worn out than I was five minutes earlier, but relieved. Mom walks in, marches really, and hands me a box of condoms. My mouth dropped open. I pushed them back at her, finally finding the words to say that I didn't need those, we weren't ready for that, but Mom kept pushing them back at me.

When I arrived and started to unpack, there they were. Sneaky Mom had slipped the box into the bag with my blouses before I left. She always has to get her way.

**Back In Phil's Embrace:** Mom, now Erin. Everyone seems to jump to the same conclusion about me and Phil. I frown even as I reach under the pillow to see if it's still there.

_2008.May.08_


End file.
